


The New Hire (Reprise)

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Juris Imprudence [29]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen, lawyer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any, law ninja."</p><p>In which the early bird catches the worm and the new runner is a law ninja.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Hire (Reprise)

Rodney was determined to win the pool on whether or not Lorne was a robot. Rumor on the For and Against Memo email chain was that Cam had spotted Lorne making repairs to himself one day, and so money was being shifted around mightily on the For side, but Rodney knew everyone was wrong. The proof he had that everyone else was wrong wasn’t the kind he was comfortable with using for the sake of winning (lawyer though he might have been, he did have some measure of conscience), so he had to find something else.  
  
The early bird catches the worm, so the saying went.  
  
So Rodney got to the office early (ostensibly to tackle a new patent by some crazy inventor named Bill Lee who thought he’d created a way to capture someone’s entire psyche and memories and imprint them on another person to use as a sort of black box for a last will and testament, also possible law enforcement and military applications). He sat at his desk, kept his door open, and dove into the research.  
  
And waited.  
  
The next person who arrived was, of course, Lorne. He paused by his desk to boot up his computer, made a beeline for the staff kitchen to start the coffee maker (Rodney would have done that to be polite, but he was also trying to be stealthy), and turned on the copy machine to warm it up. Then he turned on the quiet, soothing music that always played in the background (and that Rodney sometimes dreamed about when he was stressed out), and sat down at his desk to work.   
  
He answered a series of emails, then went to fetch several mugs of coffee, one for himself, one for Rodney, which he delivered with a polite _Good morning, sir,_ (of course he’d noticed Rodney, and of course the coffee was exactly the way Rodney liked it), and one for Chuck, who'd just unlocked the front door and went to the reception desk and fired up the reception computers.  
  
Lorne answered some more emails while he drank his coffee, and then he stood up, went to the kitchen, and fetched another mug of coffee. He carried it into O’Neill’s office.  
  
There was a pause and then, “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”  
  
Chuck sprinted across the office, stapler in hand. Rodney followed along more cautiously, nervous but gleeful. Nothing ever surprised Lorne. Robots couldn’t be surprised.  
  
Chuck was brandishing the stapler like it was a club.  
  
Lorne stood beside O’Neill’s desk, coffee mug in one hand, pistol in the other, and sometimes Rodney forgot that almost everyone at the office was a former soldier.  
  
There were two people sitting in O’Neill’s office, one a teenage boy wearing khakis, a button-down shirt, and a tie, the other a man about Lorne’s age also dressed professionally. The boy had both hands up in surrender. The man had one hand up as well - because he was missing his left arm, Rodney realized.  
  
“Easy there, soldier,” the boy said, and there was something familiar about his voice.  
  
And then O’Neill said, “What’s going on?”  
  
“I came in to leave your morning coffee and these intruders were here,” Lorne said. He sounded shaken.  
  
“How did you get in here?” Chuck demanded, brandishing the stapler some more.  
  
O’Neill put a hand on his shoulder. “Stand down.”  
  
Chuck lowered the stapler, but his gaze was still furious - and afraid.  
  
“Sergeant Barnes,” O’Neill said, and the one-armed man twitched. “Here promptly, I see. And led astray by...Junior.”  
  
“It’s Nathan these days,” the teenager said, smiling too brightly to actually be pleasant. In fact, Rodney sensed an edge of sarcasm to the kid’s smile. “And I got in here because I am obviously a law ninja and perfect for the job.”  
  
Lorne lowered his gun but didn’t de-cock it or holster it wherever he hid it. (Where did he hide it? Not in those pants or that shirt. Maybe in his leg like a robot after all? But Rodney knew he wasn’t really a robot.)  
  
“What job?” O’Neill raised his eyebrows.  
  
“The job you’re about to give me.”  
  
“Which is?” O’Neill looked amused.  
  
Nathan looked equally amused. “Officer runner, obviously. All the big law firms have one. Your brilliant paralegals can’t be shuttling down to the courthouse all the time.”

Rodney had heard Zelenka and Stackhouse grumbling about trips to the courthouse interrupting important trial prep.  
  
“Right,” O’Neill drawled, drawing the word out and loading it with sarcasm. “I’ll take it over with Woolsey and Weir. Now get out while I talk to Sergeant Barnes.”  
  
Nathan sauntered out of O’Neill’s office, and Lorne herded Rodney and Chuck after him. Lorne had made his weapon disappear and was watching Nathan with wary eyes. Nathan actually had the gall to perch on the edge of Lorne’s desk and drink some of his coffee.  
  
“You drink it black,” Nathan said, “like an infantryman in a trench.”  
  
“What would you know about it?” Lorne asked.  
  
Rodney flinched at his tone. Lorne was always unfailingly polite, even when he had to be icy and stern.  
  
Nathan shrugged, and Rodney saw shadows in his eyes. “Uncle Jack drinks it the same way.”  
  
“Uncle Jack?” Rodney echoed. He hadn’t known O’Neill had any siblings. But he could see it now, in Nathan’s eyes and smile and even the sarcasm in his voice. He was Jack O’Neill, four decades younger and half an octave higher.  
  
Before Lorne could question Nathan further, the door opened, and Sergeant Barnes stepped out.  
  
“Lorne,” O’Neill said, and Lorne turned, stood to attention at the command in O’Neill’s voice. For a second Rodney wondered if he should salute.  
  
“Sergeant Barnes is Daniel’s new paralegal,” O’Neill said. “Show him the ropes.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Lorne said, and O’Neill closed his door, leaving Sergeant Barnes standing there, shoulders hunched under all the scrutiny.  
  
“Sergeant,” Lorne began.  
  
“Bucky,” he said. “They call me Bucky.”  
  
Recognition lit in Lorne’s eyes. “Of course, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Army. Right. Well, come along this way. All your paperwork with HR has already been processed. I’ll show you where you’ll be working. How do you take your coffee?”  
  
“Uh - black,” Bucky said, and followed Lorne toward the rest of the paralegal cubicles.  
  
Chuck took a deep breath and headed back to his desk. Rodney went to head back to his office, but he realized Nathan was still perched on the edge of Lorne’s desk, swinging his legs and drinking Lorne’s coffee. And watching Lorne.  
  
And then O’Neill’s door opened, and he said, “Get in here, kid.”  
  
“Yes sir, old man.”  
  
They even did sarcasm the same. Rodney had the sense that things at the office were about to get very, very weird.


End file.
